Chef Ken brings stuffed red peppers to the dining room in preparation for dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union) less

Chef Ken brings stuffed red peppers to the dining room in preparation for dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times ... more

Photo: Philip Kamrass

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Chef Ken carries stuffed red peppers from the kitchen to the dining room in preparation for dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union) less

Chef Ken carries stuffed red peppers from the kitchen to the dining room in preparation for dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip ... more

Photo: Philip Kamrass

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Chef Ken takes a break from his job preparing dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union)

Chef Ken takes a break from his job preparing dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union)

Photo: Philip Kamrass

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Chef Ken talks with Kathy Magee, Director of Domestic Violence Services for Equinox, left, after preparing dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union) less

Chef Ken talks with Kathy Magee, Director of Domestic Violence Services for Equinox, left, after preparing dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed ... more

Photo: Philip Kamrass

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Chef Ken cleans up after preparing dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union)

Chef Ken cleans up after preparing dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union)

Photo: Philip Kamrass

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Stuffed red peppers prepared by Chef Ken for dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union)

Stuffed red peppers prepared by Chef Ken for dinner for residents of a domestic violence shelter on Wednesday Aug. 17, 2011 at an undisclosed location. (Philip Kamrass / Times Union)

Photo: Philip Kamrass

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Chef's job, perspective change

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For the first time in almost 30 years, the chef Ken Myers doesn't have to work weekends.

Better still, he has a fixed, Monday-to-Friday schedule. He needn't get up in the wee hours, as he did for all those years as a hotel breakfast cook. His contribution to his health insurance is now half of what he'd been paying at the hotel job, and it includes vision coverage.

For all of this, Myers took a pay cut. It wasn't devastating -- somewhere more than 5 percent, less than 10 percent, he says -- and given all of the other positives, he's thrilled with the change.

"I've absolutely loved it, right from the first day," Myers says. Although barely more than a month into his new gig, Myers, 56, believes he'll stay at this job until retirement beckons, whenever that happens to be.

Myers works for Equinox, the Albany-based social-services nonprofit. He's the cook -- indeed the sole kitchen staffer -- for Equinox's 30-bed shelter for victims of domestic violence. For the safety of residents and staff, its location is secret; visitors must sign a confidentiality agreement not to disclose identifying details.

The shelter is usually at capacity, and up to a third of its residents are children staying with a parent. Some pass through, needing a bed only briefly. Others remain for the shelter's maximum stay, 90 days, as they secure permanent accommodations and try to rebuild their lives. In 2010, the shelter housed 208 adults and 106 kids for at least one night, their stays paid for by county social services funds.

All of them needed to eat. Myers is officially responsible for buffet dinners Monday to Friday, though he often puts out lunch and makes extra meals on Fridays that can be reheated over the weekend. He'll surprise residents with sweet treats a couple of times per week, but his mandate is for fresh, healthful stuff that's as nutritious as it is widely appealing. Myers, following government guidelines, includes fruits, vegetables, grains and proteins in every dinner.

"I know some of (the residents) will be here for weeks or months, so I try to give them variety," says Myers, who generally works from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m., with dinner served starting at 5:30.

"They might see beef stew one week, beef tips the next, spaghetti with (meat) sauce the next," he says. In between, roasted chicken legs or tilapia with cauliflower or even the occasional pizza.

The biggest difference from his previous chef jobs, whether at his own restaurant in Pittsburgh, where he lived from 1974 to 2005, or other eateries and hotels since, is how menus are conceived. At most restaurants, the chef writes the menu and orders accordingly; Myers often creates his menus based on what is dropped off for the shelter at Equinox's head office by pantries and community gardens.

"I spent a lot of time (online) figuring out what the heck to do with cases of red peppers," says Myers. "It's here, it's good food, and I want to use it." Some of the peppers, stuffed with ground beef and rice, became one evening's entree, while others were chopped for a tossed salad and the rest roasted and frozen for later.

"It's exciting to get surprise ingredients and be able to play with them, to see what I come up with that they'll enjoy," he says. "I love the freedom of it and the challenge. The support I've received, from residents and staff, all the way up to the director of Equinox, has been amazing. I really feel like I'm doing something, like I'm giving back."

His food has been a hit with residents.

"It is delicious. I like the variety, and there is always plenty of food for everyone," says Giselle, a resident of the shelter with her toddler daughter.

"I tell him his (potato salad) is just like my mother's," says Jana, another monthlong resident. "I tell him just what I tell her: Pull the celery out."

Says Myers, "They let me know in no uncertain terms what they think of the food. They come back and talk to me all day. It reminds me of the friendly banter that goes on in a diner."

Two verdicts on Myers' food stand out in his mind: The very first night he made dinner, residents were so excited about their new cook they texted those who had stayed upstairs to come down to the dining room. A couple of weeks later, on her final day at the shelter, a woman said, "I will never forget you cooking for me."

Myers says, "All those years hiding in kitchens, I never heard anything like that. It was amazing."